Her quiz scores climbed.
The tense expression she had carried into my classroom began disappearing.
And slowly, our relationship found its own shape.
I never tried to make her into Maggie.
I never asked whether Maggie might have liked the same books.
I never compared their personalities.
Lily deserved the freedom to exist without being measured against a girl she had barely known.
Then one morning, I arrived at school and found a mystery novel sitting on my desk.
There was a sticky note on the cover.
I smiled before I even read it.
Then I saw the words.
Aunt Rachel, you might actually like this one.
I stopped breathing for a moment.
Aunt Rachel.
I read those two words again.
And again.
By the time my students arrived, I had hidden the note inside my desk because I knew I would cry if I looked at it one more time.
